


A Certain Eerie Sympathy

by juniper_and_lamplight



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Case Fic, Cats, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Knitting, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, really quite a lot of cats, so many cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniper_and_lamplight/pseuds/juniper_and_lamplight
Summary: One mystery, two love stories, twelve knitting projects, and approximately forty-two found cats.
Relationships: Farah Black & Todd Brotzman & Dirk Gently, Farah Black/Tina Tevetino, Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 35
Kudos: 78
Collections: DGHDA Brave New Year Reverse Bang 2019





	A Certain Eerie Sympathy

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to incorrigible_worksop, whose [irresistible artwork](https://incorrigible-worksop.tumblr.com/post/190003563015/happy-new-year-all-heres-my-art-for-the) inspired this fic and whose enthusiastic encouragement kept me going; to our esteemed mod DontOffendTheBees, for unflagging support of creativity in our fandom; and to RhondaHurley, for patience above and beyond spousal duty.
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, the agency is located somewhere in Montana, close enough to Bergsberg that everyone can hang out together. This fic also contains an _extremely_ low-key crossover character from another fandom (see end notes), but no knowledge of that character is necessary.

**“Supposing you were to introduce a psychic, someone with clairvoyant powers...someone who has, perhaps, a certain eerie sympathy with cats. What then?”  
-Douglas Adams, _Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency_**

* * *

  


**KnitWit community private chat transcript:**

**_BigGumshoeE:_ ** _Hey, you want to explain this screenshot you sent me?_

**_SheriffSherlock:_ ** _What, you can’t figure it out from the clues? ;)_

**_BigGumshoeE:_ ** _I only investigate if somebody’s paying_

_**BigGumshoeE:** So how about you tell me what the HELL I’m looking at_

_**BigGumshoeE:** and WHY?_

**_SheriffSherlock:_ ** _Geez, buddy, there’s no need for yelling_

_**BigGumshoeE:** I’m waiting_

_**SheriffSherlock:** Okay, okay! Do you remember when I asked you about some patterns for Bernice? _

_**BigGumshoeE:** Who?_

  


* * *

  


**Two months earlier**

“ _You_ aren’t the cat we’re looking for.” 

Dirk stopped abruptly in his tracks, causing Todd to pull up short or risk running face-first into his back. (Considering how often this exact scenario played out when they were on a case, Todd felt like his reflexes should've improved by now, but no such luck — he still stumbled every time.) Once he got his equilibrium back, Todd followed Dirk’s gaze to a nearby alleyway and the sight that had arrested him so suddenly: two yellow eyes, reflecting the glow of the streetlights as they peered out from inside a pile of discarded cardboard boxes.

“ _Are_ we looking for a cat?” Todd asked as Dirk edged slowly into the alley, holding out one hand for the cat to sniff. “I thought we were supposed to be watching for the client's wife, to see who she's sneaking around with?” 

They’d just gotten the case that day, and while Todd hadn’t been paying the closest attention (he’d had an attack the night before, and was still a little bleary), he felt fairly clear on the details: the client, a wealthy real estate developer, believed that the construction of his latest development was being sabotaged, and he had a long list of people who might wish him harm, beginning with his own wife, who he suspected was having an affair with the company lawyer. As far as Todd could remember, though, there hadn’t been a _cat_ on the list of suspects.

“Todd, in all the time we've know each other, have you really learned so little about interconnectedness?” said Dirk, crouching on the cracked asphalt and shuffling closer to the moldering mess of boxes. “Honestly, it’s as if you — oh my god, _look_.”

The last few words were whispered, so as not to startle the cat that had crept into the open to nuzzle tentatively at Dirk’s hand. Dirk looked delighted, but Todd was still confused. “So we're looking for a cat because...why?”

"Didn’t you see the email from Ms. Woodson this morning? Apparently her cat Lorna’s gone missing.” Having given Dirk's hands a thorough sniffing, the cat moved on to his scuffed oxfords. “I don't know yet how it connects to the other new case, at least not yet, but the fact that we're finding this cat _now_ surely means _something_. Although Lorna’s a long-haired Persian cat, and this cat...isn’t.”

Indeed, the cat that was now allowing Dirk to stroke between its ears was short-haired, and its mottled brown-and-red fur had the bedraggled look of a street cat, not a recent stray. With a deliberate slowness that he rarely displayed in other areas of his life, Dirk picked up the cat, supporting its back legs and cradling it against his chest. Todd had a fleeting, vivid flash of memory — Dirk, dirt-smudged and tired in the back of a Jeep, cuddling a kitten who turned out to be a murder weapon — but Dirk’s voice brought him back to the present. 

“Oh, she’s shivering. Todd, get over here!” Todd stepped closer as Dirk stood up and reached his free hand towards Todd’s face. Todd’s nerves surged for a moment — was it surprise? panic? _hope? —_ until he realized that Dirk was only reaching for his scarf. A birthday gift from Hobbs, the scarf was wide and deep blue, knitted from some kind of ultra-soft yarn, and Todd had grabbed it on impulse as they’d left their apartment that earlier that night. Now, as Dirk unwound the scarf from Todd’s neck and attempted to fashion it into a portable cat nest, the reason for Todd’s impulse became clear: it was just the universe slotting things into place for its chosen representative. Just one more side effect of living with Dirk Gently. 

It was only after the cat was thoroughly swaddled that Todd realized the implications behind that Dirk’s tender ministrations. 

“Wait, Dirk, we are _not_ taking this cat home,” he insisted, fearing that he was already too late. Just because their apartment above the agency was more spacious than either of them had lived in before didn’t mean they had to start taking in random foundlings.

“Of _course_ we’re taking her home, Todd,” Dirk replied matter-of-factly, confirming Todd’s suspicion. “It’s too late to take her to an animal shelter, and we can’t just _leave_ her _outside_ in this weather.”

He wasn’t wrong about that — Todd himself was starting to feel the chill, now that his scarf had been commandeered. He closed his eyes and sighed. 

“...Fine,” he agreed, opening his eyes again but not allowing himself to look directly at Dirk’s radiant smile. (Unrequited longing for your best friend was one thing — Todd was so used to it by now that it was like white noise, constant but unremarkable — but he drew the line at emotional masochism. He’d had enough of _that_ to last him the rest of his life.) “You can bring it home tonight, but we’re _not_ keeping it,” he added.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dirk replied, in the breezy tone he used for his most obvious lies.

“And _don’t_ , under any circumstances, give it a name.”

“I think we should call her Bernice.”

They’d spoken simultaneously, and there followed a beat of silence as they stared each other down, Todd’s scowl versus Dirk’s raised-eyebrow optimism. They held each other’s eyes for what felt like a long time, and just when Todd was starting to feel too _seen_ for comfort, Dirk dropped his head to address the cat. 

“Come on, Bernice, let’s go home.”

With that, he strode off toward the end of the alley. His longer legs meant that Todd, frustrated but unsurprised, had to walk double-quick to catch up to him — and thus was moving too fast to notice when two more feline shadows slipped out of the darkness to follow along in his wake.

  


* * *

  


Tina entered the apartment without knocking, as usual, but her standard shout of greeting caught in her throat. 

“ _Ho-ly shit_ ,” she whispered, taking in the sight of Dirk and Todd on their couch, surrounded by cats. “Farah told me that you were fostering some strays, but I didn’t realize how _many_.” She smirked at Todd, who had scooched up onto the couch arm to avoid the more aggressively playful cats (of course Dirk couldn’t find _chill_ cats, that would be too easy). “It’s like you’re a rock star again, man, you’re practically drowning in pu—”

“ _Hi, Tina_ ,” Farah interrupted forcefully, getting up from her seat by the window. “Thanks for picking up the food.” 

Tina beamed as Farah leaned close to help her with the bags of takeout. 

“No problem!” She joined Farah in unpacking the bags of food onto the coffee table, where the containers drew a curious, twitchy-nosed crowd. “Though to be fair, Hobbs picked up the food, I just carried the bags.”

Dirk sat up from his languid slouch, dislodging several cats in the process. “Where _is_ Hobbs?” he asked, peering behind Tina.

“Here, I’m here,” wheezed Hobbs, stumbling through the half-open door with an armload of...something.

“What is all that?” Todd asked as Hobbs deposited what appeared to be a shapeless, multicolored mass on the floor near Dirk’s feet.

“Pet blankets, as promised!” he said. “I hope twenty-three is enough, it was all I had on hand.”

“More than enough, thank you,” said Dirk, diving into the pile of colorful blankets and examining them one by one. “There are only seven cats, at the moment.”

“Eight, actually,” Todd reminded him. “Remember the one you found under the neighbor’s car this morning?”

“Only eight cats,” Dirk amended cheerfully, as if he’d known all along. “Plenty of blankets to go around.”

“You just _happened_ to have a pile of pet blankets?” Farah asked Hobbs as she handed him a cardboard container of fried rice.

Tina answered for him, her mouth already full of pad thai. “He knits ‘em for the Bergsberg Animal Hospital.”

Hobbs shrugged. “Well, you know those little cages they keep the critters in aren’t very cozy, and I’ve always got more yarn than I know what to do with.”

“You’re a yarn addict,” Tina said, pointing at him with her fork. “You should come with me to a meeting sometime.” 

“I didn’t come here to have my yarn stash criticized, Tina,” said Hobbs. “I came here to meet some _cats_.” He settled onto the couch between Dirk and Todd. “Now who’s _this_?” he asked, indicating the dainty black-and-white cat climbing onto his lap.

“That’s Trillian,” Dirk answered. “And that’s Zaphod right behind her, as usual —” 

“Well, you’re a charmer, aren’t you, Zaphod?” chuckled Hobbs. “Oh, and polydactyl, too!”

Todd tucked the word _polydactyl_ into his memory — he hadn’t known what to call it, but he’d been hoping that the extra toes would make it easier to find the cat’s human family, if it had one.

Dirk was continuing his litany of cat names, pointing as he went. “...and that’s Marvin over there, and Arthur, and the orange one is Benny —”

“Aw, he reminds me of my Mustard.”

“— the one menacing Todd is Ford —”

“Hey, just because I don’t want to be used as a scratching post doesn’t mean I’m scared of a _cat_.” 

“— the gray tabby helping himself to your dinner is Fenton —”

“Dangit, Fenton! _Shoo!_ ”

“— and this is Bernice.” Bernice, now looking clean and well-fed, sat purring at Dirk’s side. 

“She’s Dirk’s favorite,” Todd interjected, stabbing viciously into his container of noodles. Being jealous of a cat was exceptionally petty and he knew it, yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Hobbs, good-hearted soul that he was, simply ignored him. “And you’re fostering all of them?” he asked. “I gotta say, I didn’t really think you two were pet people.”

“Well, we’re _not,_ exactly?” said Dirk. “Or at least _I’m_ not, since my life up until this point hasn’t allowed for that sort of thing. But I’ve always had a sort of _understanding_ when it comes to cats —” 

Todd snorted. “That’s rich, coming from a guy who kept a kitten in a duffel bag.”

Dirk, too, ignored Todd. “— and all of _these_ cats just sort of... _found_ me. Or I found them. And now we have to keep them _somewhere_ while we figure out what to do with them.”

“We managed to return a few of the other cats Dirk found earlier this week,” Farah chimed in, “since Animal Control was able to scan them for microchips. And I’ve reached out to all the local shelters and rescues to see if we can find places for the other cats. I think we’ll be able to re-home them all, but it might take some time.” 

The re-homing process was already taking too long, as far as Todd was concerned. He didn’t have a problem with cats, in general; he just didn’t want to live with one, much less _eight_. (Or sometimes nine, since Mona was overjoyed at the chance to show off her skill at nuanced animal portrayal.) As if sensing his discomfort, Ford crouched next to Todd, wiggling his furry hindquarters in the windup to a pounce. Todd snatched his already-scratched hand out of the danger zone. 

“And of course,” Farah continued, “it doesn’t help that the only new clients we’ve had since this whole cat situation started are people who want us to find their lost cats. We’ve been so swamped with them that we’ve barely had any time to work on the real estate case.”

“So this isn’t just a coincidence, it’s...a thing,” said Hobbs, turning to Dirk. “One of your holistic things.”

Dirk nodded. “Technically, _all_ of the bizarre so-called coincidences that happen to me are, as you put it, _holistic things_. But yes, I think we have to treat this as a case like any other.” 

“Which means?”

“Which _means_ approaching the cat situation with an openness to serendipity, despite our near-total bafflement and the dwindling likelihood that we’ll actually get paid at the end of this.” 

“Business as usual,” said Todd, extracting Ford’s claws from his thigh.

  


* * *

  


Both Tina’s and Hobbs’ trucks were parked in front of the Bergsberg sheriff’s department, but there was no one visible in the front office when Farah arrived. She had only just pushed through the swinging gate when she heard Tina’s voice from somewhere in the back.

“Hey! C’mere and check this out!”

Farah followed Tina’s yell back to the lounge, where Tina was excitedly holding up a scrap of colorful yarn next to a bashful Hobbs.

“I could have been anyone, Tina,” Farah chastised. “I could’ve been a criminal bent on revenge.” She looked at Hobbs, hoping he’d see her point, but he just smiled.

“You know we’ve got an open-door policy here, Farah. Holding cells excepted, of course.”

“Yeah,” Tina said, “plus, I know the sound of your footsteps. Anyway, look what Hobbs made for Zaphod!” She held up the scrap of pink, purple, and blue striped yarn, which Farah could now recognize as a knitted cat collar. 

“It’s...beautiful,” she said, sensing that this was the appropriate response. 

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Hobbs demurred. “I was making one for Bernice already, and wanted to see how it looked in different colors. I might try some little jackets next.”

Farah had to hold back a laugh at the mental image of Dirk, wrestling all ten of his current cat cohort into tiny knitted jackets while Todd watched in growing horror. “So you’ve decided to keep Zaphod?” she asked Tina. 

Tina nodded. “Yeah, me and Z? We just _get_ each other. And it’s kinda nice to have someone to come home to.” 

Farah thought she saw a flash of longing flicker across Tina’s face, but in all likelihood she was just projecting. The notion of Tina not just blurting out whatever she felt seemed unlikely even to Farah, who had seen more than her fair share of unlikely things.

“So you called me here to admire your cat’s collar?” she asked Tina as Hobbs headed back to his desk to do some actual sheriffing. 

“Nah, that’s just gravy. I wanted to talk to you about something else.” Tina pocketed the collar and began rifling through a pile of papers on the couch. “Yeah, here it is,” she said, handing over a folded sheet of paper with an official-looking letterhead. “I got this letter from the county coroner.”

Farah skimmed the letter. It had the grim, stilted style of an institutional form letter, but it didn’t take her long to glean the content.

“They’re only just _now_ arranging burial for the Cardenas parents?”

“I _know_ , right? It’s been _forever_ , but there was a lot of red tape, apparently? Decades-old cold case, bodies found in trees, next-of-kin either killed in a hospital attack or disappeared from this dimension...not the usual deal for Bergsberg County.”

“But Arnold —”

“Yeah, Arnold was buried right after it all happened, but Hector and Marina were already, um, semi-mummified? And their case was more complicated — the farm is up for auction too, I guess those Blackwing goons couldn’t get into the pocket dimension after all. Point is, it took the coroner a while to sign off.”

“But now the coroner is inviting you to the burial?” 

“Well, less _inviting_ and more notifying, since me and Hobbs were the officers present when the bodies were found. Only Hobbs can’t make it that day, and...I know it’s kind of a downer, and there won’t be a funeral or anything, but I thought we might go and pay our respects?”

“We?” It was probably gross to sound hopeful about being asked to a burial, but still, Tina had asked _her_ , specifically. 

“Yeah. I’m not gonna lie, when we found them I just thought it was _weird_ , but like, in a cool way? It was the biggest goddamn thing to happen since I started working here. But now, after everything _else_ that went down, it just seems...I don’t know. It was because of _our_ teams, _our_ investigations that their bodies ended up with the coroner, so —” 

“So seeing them laid to rest is the least we can do,” Farah concluded.

“Yes, exactly! I _knew_ you’d get it.” Tina patted Farah on the arm, and when her touch lingered for longer than was strictly necessary, Farah cleared her throat.

“Okay, then, I will...put that on my calendar.”

“Cool,” said Tina, pulling her hand away. “Coolcoolcool. Um...how are things at the agency? Still a halfway house for wayward cats?”

Farah missed the warmth of Tina’s hand immediately. “Don’t get me started. Every time we find an owner or a new home for one cat, Dirk finds two more. The litterbox situation is getting untenable. And the people at Animal Control think we’re up to some kind of scam — they nearly called the police on Dirk yesterday.”

“That _is_ a pretty typical reaction to Dirk.” 

Farah snorted. “You’re not wrong.”

“I bet he doesn’t make friends with everyone who arrests him, though, does he? Like, out of all of them, and I’m guessing there’ve been _a lot_ , he still hangs out with me and Hobbs.”

“Yeah, Tina.” Farah felt a foolishly soft smile, an echo of Tina’s own, spreading across her face. “You’re definitely exceptional.”

  


* * *

  


Another lamp crashed to the floor, its shade staved in by the corner of the end table, its bulb shattered into shards which would (as Todd knew from painful past experience) be nearly impossible to hunt down and vacuum up. However, amidst the torn cushions, upended chairs, spilled beverages, and scattered books, light bulb shards were just one of many minor disasters to deal with.

Farah sidled up to him, keeping her back to the wall. “It’s like watching a nature documentary, isn’t it?” she whispered, as if Todd ever watched nature documentaries. “I feel like we’re scientists, observing what happens when one species meets another.” 

When Dirk had told Amanda about his ever-growing phalanx of felines, she had insisted on visiting, swearing that the Rowdies _wouldn’t_ wreck their apartment. And, to be fair, they weren’t wrecking it _deliberately_. However, when presented with an apartment full of cats, each of the Rowdies had a distinctive response: Martin remained stoic, baring his teeth at any cat that dared approach; Gripps sat still until he had three cats on his lap and one on his shoulder, trying to pull his woolen knit beanie off; Vogel tossed every toy and twitched every string he could find, whipping up a frenzied kitty tornado; and Beast took off in pursuit of the first cat she saw, with Cross pursuing her in turn. It was this chase that was responsible for most of the mess, though Vogel definitely wasn’t helping. 

Amanda and Dirk were, of course, ignoring all of the mayhem, absorbed as they were in Dirk’s guided tour, complete with pauses so that Amanda could pet every single cat. (There were at least twelve cats now, Todd was pretty sure. Maybe fourteen? He really ought to know, since _not_ knowing placed him uncomfortably close to crazy cat person territory.) 

Todd wasn’t particularly pleased that he and Farah were relegated to damage control, but he also accepted that it was the price he paid for continued contact with his sister. As long as he still got to see Amanda, he’d put up with _way_ worse than a passel of anarchist energy vampires and a cave-girl from fairyland. Just seeing Amanda in his apartment loosened the constant knot in his chest, and seeing her with _Dirk_ — watching the two of them laughing together so comfortably as they visited cat after cat, chucking chins and booping noses as they went — ignited something inside him that felt too fragile to name, as if acknowledging it might make it disappear.

Like any good feeling Todd ever had, it couldn’t last.

The dull roar inside the apartment was pierced by a sudden scream, and Amanda dropped the tawny-spotted cat she’d been holding, falling to her knees and clawing at her face. As he rushed over to her, Todd saw Dirk reach into his jacket, where he kept a small bottle of Todd’s pararibulitis medication, but before either of them could actually do anything, they were shoved aside. Martin, Vogel, Gripps, and Cross crowded close to Amanda, surrounding her in what seemed to be a well-practiced routine. They inhaled simultaneously, and blue-white light streamed off Amanda’s body — but only for a moment. The light faded with Amanda’s screams, and her strained muscles visibly relaxed, but her expression remained pained and her eyes screwed shut.

“Huh,” said Gripps.

“Yechhh,” added Vogel, sticking his tongue out with a grimace.

Amanda opened her red-rimmed eyes. “What? Why did you...how come I can still feel it?” She laid one hand on her face and the other on her chest, where a visible redness was spreading.

“Just plain old distress, drummer,” Martin told her, crouching down to look her in the face. “Weaksauce compared to what you give off when it comes for you.”

“Table scraps,” agreed Cross, nodding.

Amanda fanned her face, which now bore a bewildered expression. “So you’re saying that this _isn’t_ an attack?”

Just as Todd was drawing breath to say that whatever it was, he could see it too, Farah elbowed her way through the Rowdies with a glass of water in her hand. 

“It _is_ an attack,” she said, handing Amanda the water. “Just not a pararibulitis attack. Try this.” She took Amanda’s hand and dropped two pink pills into it. “It’s an antihistamine. It should help with the allergy symptoms, though you should also wash your hands and change your clothes. And get out of this apartment as soon as possible, of course.”

Amanda downed the pills like the pro she was, and allowed the Rowdies to pull her up off the floor. She narrowed her watery eyes as she looked at all of the cats she’d handled. “So you’re saying that these adorable little bastards betrayed me?”

“So it would seem,” replied Farah.

“But they never _meant_ to!” Dirk piped up. “I mean, just _look_!” He picked up Wirt and Greg, two of the younger and more hapless cats, and held them aloft, one in each hand. Todd knew that Dirk meant to convey the cats’ sweetness and innocence, but all Todd could see were _three_ adorable bastards who wreaked unintentional havoc. 

“Yeah, I’m looking,” said Amanda. “I see cute animals who set my skin on fire, and I’ve got more than enough of that in my life already, thanks.” 

Dirk wilted, then shrugged and released the confused cats. Amanda turned to Todd, wrapping him in a fierce, all-too-brief hug. “Call me when this place is safe again, okay? Or maybe next time you can take us all out to dinner.” 

She punched his arm, a little harder than seemed necessary, and turned to the door. “Let’s roll!” she hollered, and the four Rowdies still standing by her side followed her out. Sensing that her pack was leaving, Beast bounded out of the corner where she’d wedged herself, paused in front of Dirk to mutter “g’bye bibbit,” and then pounded down the stairs. 

Todd, Dirk, and Farah all remained silent, standing exactly where they had been, until they heard the van growl away down the street. In the merciful silence that followed, cats began creeping out of the hiding places they’d found during the commotion, looking as rattled as Todd felt. 

“I can’t have my sister allergic to my whole apartment,” he told Dirk and Farah.

“No, we can't,” agreed Dirk. "Though I shudder to think of the Rowdy 3 at a restaurant."

“But we still haven't found places for all of the cats,” Farah pointed out. “What else can we do?”

Todd glanced across the apartment, where the door to the unused guest room stood ajar. “We’re giving the cats their own room.”

  


* * *

  


The cat tree was nearly as tall as Todd was, and after spending an hour assembling it, he felt a thrill of triumph as he watched a silver-striped kitten leap nimbly onto one of the little carpeted shelves. Todd brushed off the sisal fibers clinging to his clothes and looked over at Farah, who was climbing down from her stepladder, having finished installing a camera system on the tall bookcase. 

“Okay, I know I started this whole cat-room plan, but tell me again why we need to create a surveillance state in here?”

Farah folded up the stepladder with a neat snap. “Because,” she said, “being able to use our phones to check on the cats eliminates at least one of the many stressors in the life of this agency. Also, Dirk really likes the idea.”

“Of course he does.”

Dirk himself appeared at that moment, with Tina in tow. She’d arrived just as he returned from visiting the real estate developer’s various competitors, sniffing around for any hints of bad blood, but all he had to show for the day’s work was a vague lead about eco-terrorists and two more cats. As Dirk tried to get the new cats settled, Tina tried to tempt more of them onto the tree, and Todd and Farah retreated to the kitchen for a well-earned break. 

Seated at the table with beer in hand (complete with a knitted, cat-patterned bottle cozy, because this was his life now), Todd could still see Dirk in the cat room, explaining the household setup to the new arrivals and chasing after them whenever they got distracted by Tina’s efforts. Todd found himself smiling without meaning to, and when Farah sat down next to him, he had to school his expression into something less cartoonishly lovestruck. Farah jostled his ribs with her elbow. 

“Hey!” he whined. “What was that for?”

Farah took a sip of her own beer. “That was to let you know that you don’t have look away. At least not around me.”

“Look away from what?” It was a token evasion at best, but it felt necessary nonetheless.

Farah sighed wearily and nodded toward the cat room. “Him,” she said. 

Apparently Todd’s token evasion was good for one more round, because he said, “I don’t know what you _think_ is happening, but —”

“Don’t,” Farah interrupted. “Just...don’t. You don’t have to hide it around me, is all I’m saying. Well, not _all_ I’m saying, because I’m _also_ going to say that you need to tell him. For my sake as well as yours, because I’m not sure I can handle any more of the two of you being all _moony_.”

Todd abandoned all pretense, because he _had_ to know. “Wait, the _two_ of us?”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “You’re both so incredibly obvious, it’s exhausting to witness. We might as well add it to the agency sign: ‘Cases solved with arguable efficiency, unbearable levels of mutual pining provided free of charge.’”

Even amidst his mortification at being called out, Todd nearly laughed at this rare display of snark from Farah. “If that’s true, then why hasn’t he _said_ anything?”

Farah shook her head. “Same reason you haven’t. He’s a pretty good detective, but he’s willfully ignoring the clues right in front of him. You’re going to have to spell it out for him, Todd, or he’s never going to believe it.”

“I still don’t think _I_ believe it.”

“Don’t believe that Dirk’s in love with you, or that you’re in love with him?” 

“Both, really.” He was adjusting, in tiny, painstaking increments, to the idea of a recovering dirtbag like himself being capable of loving Dirk in the way he deserved to be loved. However, to suggest that Dirk might actually _reciprocate_ made the entire concept collapse under its own improbability. 

Wisely, Farah didn’t respond out loud, but she _did_ squeeze his knee, which was Farah-speak for “your sense of self-worth is shit and I empathize.” Then she gave him a Look that would make even the most stalwart soul quail. It was a Look that compelled him, unequivocally, to _get his shit together_.

Since Todd wasn’t feeling particularly stalwart and was not _remotely_ prepared to get his shit together, he did the only thing he could think of: he stalled.

“Okay,” he said, trying to keep his voice in a normal, non-freaked-out register. “I will if you will.”

Farah’s Look faltered, then fell away. “Excuse me?”

“If you’re issuing some kind of true-confessions ultimatum —”

“That’s not what I —”

“— then you have to follow through with it too.” 

Farah looked away from him, her shoulders shifting uncomfortably inside her jacket. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. 

“Is it, though?”

Now Farah _did_ look at him, and Todd mimicked her earlier nod toward the cat room. 

“Seriously? I’m not — or rather, _Tina_ doesn’t— it’s not like that with us.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Come _on_ , Todd. You know as well as I do that Tina’s not exactly shy about this sort of thing. If she was interested, she would have just said so.”

“No, _you_ come on,” he replied. “The only reason Tina hasn’t made a move is because she thinks you’re way out of her league.”

“Out of her...you know, even if that _were_ true, I don’t think it would stop her. You’ve seen how she is on a case — she just follows her impulses with practically zero fear of failure or embarrassment. It’s almost _impressive_.”

“Yeah,” Todd agreed, “but don’t you think that maybe she _is_ afraid of failing with _you_ because you’re someone she already cares about? Looks up to, even?”

Farah didn’t answer, but the question had been mostly rhetorical, anyway.

“Maybe I _do_ have to spell things out,” said Todd. “But maybe you do too.” 

Farah pressed her lips into a tight line, clearly swallowing back whatever protests she’d prepared. Todd watched as she hung her head, took a few slow breaths, and then looked back up to the cat room, where Tina was gleefully sprinkling catnip onto the cat tree, sunlight reflecting off her badge and the aviator shades nestled in her hair. Farah blinked, just once, then squared her shoulders and held out her hand to Todd.

“Okay,” she said. “I will if you will.”

Todd was so startled by her agreement that he found himself shaking her hand before his brain caught up with his body. They didn’t discuss a deadline, but they didn’t need to, not now that they each knew the other was watching and waiting.

In the cat room, the cats swarmed the catnip-covered tree, causing Dirk to stumble and fall on his ass. At the sound of his indignant squawk, Todd’s idiot heart skipped a beat. In the back of his mind, a clock started ticking.

  


* * *

  


Livestreaming from the cat cam was Tina’s idea. When she showed the agency the video channel she’d made for them, Dirk was the only one in favor.

“You just set this up this without even _asking_?” Farah demanded. She was annoyed, but not nearly as annoyed as she might have been a year before, which was remarkable in and of itself. Was she getting better at relinquishing control? Or was she just predisposed to forgiving _Tina_ , due to being inconveniently in love with her?

“Well, yeah, it’s not like anyone else was gonna do it! This agency is _barely_ online, aside from your boring-ass, business-y website —”

“We are a literal business,” Farah reminded her. 

“And the internet is a dumpster fire,” Todd added. 

“Our website _is_ unforgivably boring, though,” said Dirk, looking over Tina’s shoulder at her laptop screen. “Farah, I don’t know why you rejected all of my suggestions to introduce some flair, a sense of _drama_ —”

Farah shook her head. “Clients get plenty of drama just by walking in the door.” 

“See?” said Tina. “You’re all proving my point. I _had_ to make this account because Dirk is hopeless with the internet,” (Dirk let out a small, offended gasp), “Todd fuckin’ hates it, and Farah’s all, _‘social media sells your data! Use a VIP and live in a cave!_ ’”

“Okay, _that_ is unfair,” Farah protested. “And it’s VPN, not VIP. Anyway, we’re _private investigators_. Emphasis on the _private?_ ”

“Okay, so I’ll make sure to livestream only during your office hours, so that none of you have to be on camera.” Tina held up her right hand in the three-fingered sign for Scout’s honor. “I promise, cats only on the holistic detective agency cat cam.” She hovered her laptop’s cursor over the “Go live” button, ready to click. “Now, do you wanna find homes for these cats or not?”

After a week of livestreaming, Farah had to admit that Tina was right — it _did_ attract interest from prospective cat adopters. Unfortunately, it _also_ attracted interest from prospective clients with missing cats, a demographic that already made up the bulk of their current caseload. Even more unfortunately, Dirk’s inherent gift for helping people be where they were meant to be didn’t seem to apply to cats: the Venn diagram of “cats lost by clients” and “cats found by Dirk Gently” had only a mere sliver of overlap. 

But find lost cats he did, at an alarmingly prodigious rate. Nearly every time he went out, he returned with at least one cat. Cats found him at the grocery store, popped up outside his favorite coffee shop, and followed him onto public transit (resulting in both Dirk and the cat being kicked off the bus at the next stop). The onslaught of cats became so incessant that he decided to try staying home for an entire day, just to see what would happen. 

He spent most of the day downstairs at the agency, unease and cabin fever radiating off him in waves. When Farah asked if he wanted to talk about it, he just squeezed his little rubber stress doll (presumably Mona, trying to comfort him) and looked at her with tired eyes.

“It’s not the cats themselves I mind,” he said, eventually. “I’ve always liked cats as much as they like me, although I know Todd isn’t so keen on them. It’s just that cats are how it started for me, holistically speaking. I kept finding lost cats, and it created quite an impression in...certain circles, all of which culminated in the not-so-thriving career you see before you.” He exhaled, and the doll’s rubber eyes bugged out. “I know it’s _probably_ just that we’re in the shittiest phase of the case, when things are piling up but it’s too soon to see any connections. Still, I can’t help wondering why I’m... _reverting_. Why is the universe treating me like a child again? What could I have missed that’s so _obvious_ as to warrant a remedial case?”

Farah knew she should say something encouraging, or maybe even offer a hug, since that was a thing they did now. But the moment was shattered by a tinkly-scratchy noise from the window, where a large Maine Coon cat was clawing at the glass, demanding to be let inside. 

As worried as Farah was for Dirk’s state of mind, not to mention Todd’s and her own, there were definite upsides to having the cats around. She _liked_ cats, for one thing. She wasn’t in a position to adopt one (her work-life boundaries were a joke, and it didn’t seem fair to bring a pet into the mix), but she liked being able to go upstairs and spend her lunch break with a cat curled up by her side. And for as much as Todd complained about the cats, Farah could see how much he liked being needed by them, and it was probably good for him to take care of something other than human beings who routinely flung themselves into danger. Todd kept the cats’ water bowls refreshed, helped with the daring feat that was feeding time, made sure they had time to roam outside the cat room, and then vacuumed up after them. He even scooped litter every now and then, though mostly he just nagged Dirk until _he_ did it. Farah even caught Todd sneaking glances at Dirk’s phone screen during his cat cam check-ins. Overall, Dirk’s not-psychic feline sensitivity and Todd’s grouchy practicality made the two of them a surprisingly good pair of cat caretakers, and it made Farah’s chest tighten with frustration when she thought about all the _other_ ways in which they made a good pair — the ways they were both resisting out of sheer terror and emotional constipation.

Honestly, the bickering _alone_ should’ve been enough to clue them in. Dirk insisted on giving every cat a name, which came in handy when Farah posted the cats’ photos to pet adoption websites, but got confusing after the tally of found cats exceeded twenty. Still, Dirk consistently claimed he could remember all of their names, and Todd consistently called bullshit on him.

“Yes, hello, _hello_ Adelaide, I missed you too,” Dirk cooed to the long-haired black cat who always greeted him with a plaintive, faux-hungry _mrrrow_. “No, wait, you’re Beatrice, aren’t you, I can tell by the overbite.”

“Bull _shit_ , you can’t possibly remember a thing like that,” said Todd, checking the corners of the cat room for hidden hairballs. “You’re just making the names up, now.”

“Of _course_ I can remember, Todd, each of these cats is a _distinct_ and valuable individual. For instance, that Siamese over there playing with the yarn mouse? That’s Fenchurch. The two curled up on the chair are Frankie and Benjy, and that elderly tabby Farah’s petting is, ah, Ssss..larti...bartfast?”

“Yeah, see? Bullshit.”

 _What’s bullshit is that you two won’t admit how married you are_ , Farah thought, holding in an exasperated sigh. No sooner did she think it, however, than her conscience reared up and hissed _hypocrite!_

She’d talk to Tina. _Soon_. Even if it backfired in her face, at least she’d know she’d _tried_ , and hadn’t forced her friends to witness her tiptoeing around it forever.

  


* * *

  


Tina was quiet on the drive back from the cemetery, leaving the truck radio on low and hunching her shoulders even more than usual. The silence persisted all the way back to Tina’s place, where she kicked off her boots, shrugged off her heavy uniform coat, and threw herself down on the couch before she finally spoke. 

“Well, _that_ was a nightmare!” Her attempt at a chipper, mood-lightening tone missed the mark so badly that it made Farah’s throat ache and her eyes sting.

“Was it?” she asked, joining Tina on the couch. It was true that Hector and Marina Cardenas had been buried with no-frills efficiency, but Farah hadn’t thought it was _that_ bad. Considering what the Cardenases been through, both in life and in death, a simple grave seemed almost merciful in its mundanity. 

Tina struggled out of her shoulder holster (a heavy-duty knitted number that Farah recognized as a gift from Hobbs) before she replied, the false cheer gone from her voice. 

“Shit, Farah, I don’t know about you, but for me? Doesn’t matter how long it’s been, if I’m standing by a grave, all I can think of is…” Tina didn’t say her brother’s name, but she didn’t have to. Just like Farah didn’t have to say her father’s name, or Patrick’s. “And obviously the Cardenases weren’t the most functional family in town, what with the —” she mimed a stabbing motion “— and all, but it’s just real goddamn _sad_ to think of their bodies gathering dust at the coroner’s office, with nobody to come for them. Makes you think about what happens when it’s _your_ turn to bite the big one. Like, I’ve been a fuckup since — well, _always_ , and sober or not, if I died today, I don’t know if my family…I don't even know if I’d _want_ them to...” 

She trailed off, but Farah understood. She’d felt the heat of bridges burning behind her, and the chill of knowing her family was on the other side. And while she didn’t regret severing ties with her family after her father’s death, she sometimes _wished_ she did, _wished_ she’d had a family worth mourning. She slid closer to Tina on the couch, and, after a few seconds of internal agonizing, put an arm around Tina’s shoulder. 

Tina leaned into the touch as she continued. “I’m trying — I’ve _always_ tried to just take it as it comes, right? But then stuff like this — or like when we all got shot — makes me feel like I need to step up my game. There’s still a _ton_ of stuff I wanna do before I die, and when I _do_ kick it, I don’t want to wonder if Hobbs’ll be the only one who gives a shit.”

Farah laid her free hand on Tina’s knee and scoured her brain for the right words, the ones that would be reassuring and understanding and _not_ creepy. “Tina...you know _I’d_ give a shit if you died, right?” 

_Stupidstupidstupid._ Was _that_ the best she could do? Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all. Only — Tina was actually perking up, looking at Farah with wet eyes but a genuine smile. 

“You would?”

“Of _course_ I would. You’re — even the _idea_ of you dying makes me — I care about you, Tina. A _lot_. Right now, while you’re alive.” 

As she spoke, she tightened her arm around Tina’s shoulders, bringing Tina face to face with her, close enough that Farah could feel her breath as she said, “I care about you, too.”

Was this the moment? It _had_ to be. She’d been waiting for a chance like this for so long, and now here it was, and all she had to do was _take_ it, and _not mess it up_.

“Speaking of things we want to do before we die...” she said, and _oh god, OH GOD, terriblemorbidunsexy_ , was it too late to just _leave_? But no, somehow the moment held, and Tina was sliding a gentle, callused hand around the back of her neck, so there was nothing for it but to charge ahead and _hope_. “Can I — ?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” said Tina, pulling her in and pressing their lips together, warm and messy and sure. 

It started out as an unbalanced, uncoordinated thing, a sudden mashing together of mouths. But as each of them became fully aware that _yes, this was actually happening_ , it shifted into something slower and more subtle. Farah’s hands gripped Tina’s waist, pulling her even closer while Tina’s hands stroked down Farah’s back, and then their lips aligned _just so_ , melting together until Farah felt like the rest of her was melting too, her brittle edges going soft and pliable. Kissing had never had this effect on her before, and she had every reason to suspect that it wasn’t about technique, but about everything that had passed between her and Tina — every obstacle they’d fought, every truth they’d shared, every yearning look and every dumb joke, all built up into the kind of trust that meant Farah could lose herself in a kiss. 

Which made it doubly startling when Tina’s surety faltered, her body tensing and her face clouding with worry as she pulled away. 

“This _is_ what you were going to ask, right?” she said. “The kissing? I mean, you really _went_ with it, full points for enthusiasm, so I just figured — but like, maybe you just didn’t want to shove me away, and I shouldn’t have assumed and just _grabbed_ you like that, but I kinda felt like I had to lunge before you thought better of it, and —”

This time, it was Farah’s turn to interrupt a mini-meltdown with a kiss.

“Yes, this is what I was going to ask,” she said when they surfaced again. “And I don’t want to shove you away, for any reason. And I won’t think better of it, because I’ve already _been_ thinking about it for a long time.”

“Yeah?” said Tina, brightening. “How long?”

“Since our first case together.” _Since ‘sounds intense.’ Since we danced under a rain of magic pixie dust. Since I realized you were a useless cop but a good person._ “You?”

Tina laughed. “Shit, Farah, I even thought your FBI wanted poster was hot!” Her face softened. “And then I actually met you, and you were...so much _more_ , and I was _so_ not ready.”

“But you’re ready now?”

“Yeah.” Tina grinned. “Ready if you are.”

Farah was leaning in for another kiss when her phone chimed loudly inside her jacket.

Automatically, she fished it out. “Sorry,” she said, “but that’s Todd’s text alert, he and Dirk are staking out those eco-terrorists today, to see if they’re the ones faking animal attacks in the real estate case, and —” 

“It’s cool, I get it,” said Tina. They looked at the text message together, and then looked back at each other, relieved. “So...the angry tree-huggers aren’t our perps, and we’ve got an hour before the guys are coming here to debrief?” Tina asked.

“Mmmhmm,” said Farah, dropping her phone on the table next to Tina’s holster.

“An hour’s a pretty long time.” Tina’s hands slipped under the hem of Farah’s shirt and her fingertips skated across Farah’s skin, making her shiver and giving her several ideas about how they might spend that hour. Farah cast an assessing look at Tina, who was practically twinkling back at her, her hair a tousled disaster and her eyes squinched up the way they did when she smiled with her entire face. 

With her nerves thrumming and her heartbeat thudding in her ears, Farah stood up and held out her hand. Tina wasted no time in taking it, and a minute later they were inside Tina’s bedroom, with the door closing decisively behind them.

Two minutes later, the door opened a crack, and Tina (now wearing far fewer clothes) deposited a protesting Zaphod in the hallway before closing the door once again.

  


* * *

  


The first thing Todd noticed, when they arrived for their debrief, was the hair. 

It was unremarkable for Tina’s hair to be a tangled mess, but the fact that Farah’s crown of curls looked noticeably less-than-perfect indicated an extreme level of distraction. Then there were the clothes — both women looked suspiciously rumpled, and Tina had missed a button on her shirt. Finally, Todd’s awareness zoomed out far enough to notice the most obvious tell, which was that the two of them sat pressed close together, despite ample room on the couch, with Tina’s legs slung across Farah’s so that she was practically in Farah’s lap. 

Dirk had clearly made some similar observations. “OH my GOD, you two!” he exclaimed, pointing at Farah and Tina each in turn, then moving his finger back and forth between them. “You two _are_ a two now, aren’t you?”

“Yep!” said Tina, making no attempt to hide her smugness as she threaded her fingers through Farah’s. Such a succinct response from Tina, queen of the overshare, was absolute confirmation of what she and Farah had been up to (and that Farah had specifically asked her _not_ to overshare about it).

“That’s _fantastic_!” Dirk enthused, hands flailing the way they did when he didn’t know where to put his excitement. 

“That _is_ fantastic,” Todd agreed. “I’m glad you...I’m glad.” 

And he _was_ genuinely glad for his friends — if anyone deserved happiness together, it was them. But an undercurrent of dread ran beneath his gladness, because now that things had worked out for Farah and Tina, Farah would be even _more_ insistent that they’d work out for him and Dirk. Unless...maybe in the heady glow of emotional maturity and sexual satisfaction, Farah would forget their honesty pact? Then Todd could postpone his potential heartbreak for a least a _little_ longer, and —

His phone buzzed. 

The text was just two words: “Your turn.”

When he looked up, Farah was staring directly at him, her phone in her hand and steel in her eyes. 

Todd swallowed, hard, and looked away as the ticking in his head grew louder.

  


* * *

  


“Definitely that one.” Todd pointed at a sleek black cat picking its way across the narrow windowsill, its long tail held aloft for balance. 

“ _Todd_ ,” Dirk shook his head with an annoyingly tolerant smirk. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding. That one is _far_ too easy.”

“How can a _cat_ be eas— you know what, never mind, I don’t want to know. I’m just saying it’s just got a _look_ in its eyes.” The cat had indeed paused its tightrope act to level a stare at Todd with its large, yellow-green eyes.

Dirk, however, was unmoved. “If he _does_ have a so-called _‘look’_ ,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes with his fingers, “it’s only because he’s embarrassed that you’re so _spectacularly_ wrong.”

Todd folded his arms against his chest. “Okay then, _you_ guess. _You’re_ supposed to be the expert, and we wouldn’t even have this problem if you were actually able to remember all the cats and their names.” 

“It’s _got_ to be that one,” said Dirk, ignoring Todd’s dig and indicating the calico perched atop the tall bookcase, its tail curled around its body as it surveyed the room with an imperial air.

“Why that one? How do you know?”

“Because that one would be the most _challenging_. Just look at those uneven whiskers! The rakish scar on the right ear! The missing patch of fur on the tail! She wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“Okay, let’s say you’re right. How the hell do we get it down from there? Farah’s out with Tina, and I don’t want to find out how she’d react if we interrupted them just so we could borrow her stepladder.”

Dirk tilted his head, considering. “Well, I _could_ try to scale the bookcase, but I’d need a boost to keep from overbalancing it, and I seem to recall that _last_ time I tried to climb something, you rudely refused to push my bum.”

For a dizzying half-second, Todd considered telling Dirk just how much his attitude had changed regarding his hands on Dirk’s ass. Then he shook his head and forced himself to say something else before his brain could short-circuit. “I guess you _could_ just stand on a chair. Or maybe we could try to lure it down with some food?”

“Yes, that sounds like an _excellent_ plan if we want to be rushed by thirty-odd cats at once.” 

Todd shuddered. He was still slightly traumatized from the last time they’d brought a whole can of wet food into the room instead of carefully doling out bowls of kibble and tactically retreating.

Dirk must have noticed the shudder, because he rubbed a soothing hand across Todd’s shoulder. “Buck up, Todd! At least _you_ can leave this circus if you want. It’s _my_ destiny, apparently, to run Dirk Gently’s Holistic Cat Rescue, but _you_ can find a normal job, a normal place, a normal flatmate…”

This attempt at encouragement had the opposite effect on Todd, whose heart twisted in his chest. It was so easy to forget how perceptive Dirk could be, and Todd hadn’t even considered how his obvious displeasure with the cat situation might look from Dirk’s perspective. 

“I could move back to Kansas and be a farmer, huh?” he joked, but Dirk didn’t smile. “Dirk, I’m not going to pretend that I _like_ being overrun with cats with no solution in sight, but that doesn’t mean I want to _leave_. I’m still here because I want to be, okay? I’m still here because I…” 

All he had to do was say the last two words. They were _right there_ , on the tip of his tongue, and Dirk was standing _so close_ , his face hopeful and his hand still on Todd’s shoulder. All Todd had to do was say the words and close the distance…

“...I’m your best friend,” he finished. _Fuck._

Dirk smiled, nodded, and let go of Todd’s shoulder. 

“Maybe we could try asking again?” he suggested, looking back up at the cat. “Just one more time?” 

“Asking who what now?” Hobbs poked his head around the doorframe. “Sorry to interrupt, fellas, but I thought we were taking some Petfinder photos tonight, and when you didn’t answer the door I just let myself in. Everything all right up here?” Hobbs’ brow wrinkled in concern as he glanced at each of them in turn.

Todd broke first. “We’re not sure which cat is Mona,” he admitted. “And she’s ignoring us when we ask her to change back.” 

“No, no, we _do_ know, she’s _clearly_ that one,” Dirk insisted, flinging his arm out in the direction of the cat in question. “And she’s not _ignoring_ us, she’s just...very deep in her role. Normally I wouldn’t worry about it, but we _are_ supposed to be doing photos tonight, and it would be very unpleasant for everyone concerned if we accidentally let Mona get adopted, so we _really_ have to —”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, buddy,” said Hobbs, cutting Dirk off mid-ramble. “That little gray one in the corner, with the handsome white eyepatch and socks? That’s Mona, for sure.”

Dirk and Todd both turned in the direction of Hobbs’ nod. The kitten in question had a death-grip on a multicolored, felt-covered pillow, and was gleefully tearing out the pillow's stuffing with its teeth. As if it could feel their collective gaze, the kitten ceased its attack and looked back at them, sticking out its tongue several times to dislodge a wisp of stuffing that clung to it.

Dirk seemed almost offended by Hobbs’ calm certainty. “How you can you be so _sure_?”

“It’s that tie-dyed felting yarn,” Hobbs replied, pointing at the partially destroyed pillow. “It’s her favorite. Goes for it every time. She must’ve gone through a dozen of those little pillows, easy.”

At these words, kitten-Mona stood up, bit one corner of the pillow carcass, and dragged it across the room to Hobbs’ feet. “Don’t you worry, Miss Mona,” he said, stooping down to scoop her up and hand her over to a relieved Dirk. “I’ll bring you a new one tomorrow.”

  


* * *

  


It was almost five o’clock on a Friday when Todd found it. 

With no new leads on the real estate developer case, he and Dirk had been idly looking through the case file, hoping that one of them would notice _something_ that would point them in the right direction. Despite the agency’s up-front “arguable efficiency” caveat, the client was getting as frustrated as they were, and if there wasn’t a break in the case soon, he’d probably walk. And so, at a loss for anything else to try, Todd clicked through documents, photos, blueprints, and maps, trying to view everything with fresh eyes. He’d already seen the photos of the felled trees and smashed-in construction site, and he’d known it was located back in Washington, near Burlington. But until now, he’d never seen a map of the development’s exact location. As soon as the map opened on his screen, he had a vivid sense-memory: the smell of singed clothing, the grip of Dirk’s hand, the flickering of monitors in a dim basement…

“Solved it,” he whispered.

Dirk, who’d been distracted by watching the cat cam on his phone, looked up sharply. “What?”

“Solved it,” Todd repeated, leaning forward in his chair. “Dirk, what if the universe is sending you an endless parade of lost cats because it wants you to find one _specific_ lost cat? A cat _we_ lost.” He turned his computer screen to show Dirk the map. “In Skagit Valley.”

Dirk squinted at the map. “You mean where Patrick Spring’s machine... _that’s_ where the development is?”

Todd nodded.

“The construction workers!” Dirk exclaimed, and Todd could practically _see_ his mind whirring with connections. “They claimed that the damage to the trees and buildings in the development looked like animal attacks. But since no animal is capable of that kind of destruction, the developer assumed it was some sort of elaborate sabotage and hired _us_ to find out who was behind it.” He was gesturing and pacing now, in full-on theorizing mode. “Only _maybe_ , possibly, quite _probably_ in fact, the construction workers were _right_ all along, and it _is_ an animal — an extremely unusual animal who’s lost and lashing out.” Dirk’s eyes, when they locked with Todd’s, had the manic glint of holistic comprehension. 

“The kitten,” Todd said.

“The kitten,” Dirk agreed.

“We’re going to need to borrow a truck.”

Knowing that Farah would outright veto this particular field op, they approached Hobbs instead, who agreed to let them use his pickup (which boasted the four-wheel drive and sturdy shell they needed), but only if he could come along. “It’s my day off tomorrow, anyway,” he insisted, as if this was reason enough to accompany them on a possibly misguided and definitely dangerous search for a rogue cat-shark.

The drive took them all night, with Todd and Hobbs taking turns driving. (Dirk complained for the entire first hour of the trip, but they still wouldn’t let him get behind the wheel). Todd tried to sleep when he wasn’t driving, his head pillowed on Hobbs’ well-worn knitted seat cover. After years of touring, he was an expert at road napping, but it was still disorienting when he half-woke from a doze to hear Hobbs speaking quietly to Dirk.

“Well, we’re past Spokane. About halfway there.”

“Mmmm,” was Dirk’s only reply, which seemed to concern Hobbs as much as it concerned Todd. 

“You doing okay over there, Dirk?” Hobbs asked.

“Yes, perfectly! Well, for a given value of okay.” Dirk shifted on the bench seat next to Todd, and though Todd knew he ought to open his eyes and signal that he was awake, he couldn’t bring himself to break to the confessional hush within the truck’s cab. “To be quite honest, I don’t know _what_ I am at the moment.”

“What do you mean?”

Todd’s felt Dirk’s shoulder rise and fall in a full-body sigh. “This is...unprecedented, in my career. Revisiting a finished case is an uncharted area in the stream of creation, and I don’t understand _why_ I’m supposed to wade through it.”

“Really? In all the time you’ve been doing your holistic thing, you’ve never come back to an old case?”

“I’ve never really had the chance. For most of my life, I’ve just been blundering around, following people who seem like they know where they’re going, getting shunted from one mad thing to the next. The stream only flowed forward, until now.”

“So what’s different now?”

“If I knew _that_ , I wouldn’t be worrying my way down Highway 90, would I?”

There was a pause before Hobbs responded. “Dirk, you once told me that if I was going to make it through one of your cases, I needed to acknowledge and engage what was happening around me.”

Todd could almost _hear_ Dirk’s eyeroll. “I can hardly _fail_ to acknowledge the approximately forty-two lost cats I’ve found in the last two months.”

“Sure, yeah, but it’s not just about the cats, is it?,” said Hobbs. “There’s also the Cardenases. And Farah and Tina. All around you, things that should’ve happened a long time ago are finally happening. And now you’re getting _your_ chance to deal with something _you_ should have dealt with.”

“But I’ve _already_ dealt with this case, that’s the point! I solved it, I got Lydia back, and —”

“Yeah, but you left loose ends.”

“Well, beingkidnapped by the CIA _did_ distract me somewhat from the finer post-case details.”

“Hey, now, I didn’t mean it as a criticism,” said Hobbs, his tone gentle. “It’s more like — when you’re knitting, and you’re done with a project, you can’t just _stop_ knitting and walk away. You’ve got to stick around, bind off, and weave in the loose ends, or the whole thing might unravel.”

Dirk seemed to digest this for a moment, and Todd strained to hear over the roar of wind past the windows and the hum of tires against the road. “So you think that because I’ve finally stuck around somewhere, the universe is somehow _rewarding_ me with a chance to...bind off?”

“It’s just a theory. But if everything really is connected, this might be just the start. You might get the chance to weave in all kinds of loose ends.”

Dirk was quiet for another beat. “Alternatively, I might be eviscerated by the weaponized soul of a hammerhead shark.”

“That _is_ also a possibility.” Hobbs’ chuckle blended into the rumble of the engine. 

Dirk and Hobbs lapsed back into silence, but their conversation had already sent a whole range of _other_ possibilities, both terrifying and tantalizing, racing through Todd’s mind, and it was a long while before he dozed off again.

When Todd next woke, he discovered that he’d moved in his sleep, and that one side of his face was now sticky and sweaty from being pressed against Dirk’s jacket-clad shoulder. It wasn't a comfortable position for either of them, but Todd thought he heard a tinge of regret in Dirk’s voice as he whispered to Todd that they’d arrived.

Hobbs fetched the cat carrier from the back of the truck, and the three of them cautiously picked their way through the partially-constructed, partially-demolished housing development. Just like in the photos, the little neighborhood was littered with splintered wood, smashed masonry, and drywall punctured by distressingly large bite marks. Though it was situated in a large clearing, it was ringed almost entirely by forest, and in the weak, early-morning sunlight, Todd could make out several felled trees and downed branches just past the forest’s edge. The evidence was there — all they had to do was find the culprit. 

Todd patted his pockets to double-check that he had his pills with him. Risk of electric shock meant an increased risk of an attack, and he was _not_ going to let Dirk face this without him.

“What’s the plan?” asked Hobbs. “I’m guessing that calling ‘here, kitty kitty’ isn’t going to do the trick.”

“And _I’m_ guessing,” said Dirk, “that my presence is, currently, the equivalent of such a call. If the cat is here, she’ll come to us.”

It was then that another thought occurred to Todd. “Shit, Dirk,” he said, “even if the shark-cat _does_ find us, what are we going to _do_ with it once we catch it?” The simmering fear he’d been tamping down was starting to boil over. “We can’t even find homes for the _normal_ cats we’ve already got, much less a cat that turns into an apex predator when it’s startled.”

“Well, we know from past experience that she’s a calm traveler,” said Dirk, “so we should be safe on the drive back, and after that —” he gave Todd a nervous smile and shrugged. 

“You don’t have a plan?” Todd’s fear morphed into irritation. “You had an eleven-hour drive to think about it, and you _still_ don’t have a plan?”

“Hey, you had the same eleven hours of thinking time, and I’m not hearing any suggestions from _you_.” 

“Whoa there, guys,” interjected Hobbs, “there’s no need to worry about that. I’ve been meaning to tell you that me and Farah, we’ve been —”

Hobbs’ explanation was interrupted by an ominous rustling in the underbrush. There was a brief, bright flash of blue light, and the rustling became a swelling chorus of beating hooves, flapping wings, and creaking timber. Todd, Dirk, and Hobbs barely had time to dive behind a crumbling brick chimney before a small stampede of wildlife — squirrels, birds, deer, and all sorts of other animals moving too fast for Todd to identify — burst out from the nearby tree line, tore through the abandoned development, and disappeared into the forest on the other side. As they ran, the tops of two tall trees came crashing down behind them, limbs splintered and lightly smoking. Out of the haze of smoke, dirt, and tangled branches that followed, there emerged a lone, four-legged figure.

The shark-cat simply stood there for a few seconds, scenting the dusty air. Then it sat down and began demurely licking a front paw.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” said Dirk. “I thought we might at least get a pleasant stroll in the woods, first.”

“Wow. You were _not_ exaggerating about how powerful this thing is,” said Hobbs. “Or how dang _cute_.”

“Maybe we should try to grab it now?” suggested Todd. “It might be calmer right after it...goes off.” 

Hobbs nodded. “Dirk, you approach from the center,” he said, unlatching the door of the cat carrier he still clutched in one hand. “Todd, you go right, and I’ll go left. _Slowly_ , now.”

Tenatatively, they emerged from their hiding place and began to fan out as instructed. The moment they stepped into the twig-littered clearing, however, the cat looked up. All three humans froze in their tracks, but it was too late — the cat stood and began trotting towards them. As it drew closer, Todd felt Dirk’s hand clutching for his, and without thinking, he gripped it tight and braced for impact.

The cat walked directly up to Dirk and butted its head against his shin. 

There was no flash of electric blue light, no sudden carnage. The cat gave a soft, chirruping _brrrrrtt?_ and looked up at Dirk expectantly.

“He _llo_ ,” said Dirk, releasing Todd’s hand with a final squeeze and reaching down to rub a knuckle between the cat’s ears. “Do you remember me?” The cat twined around his ankles, and soon the sound of a contented purr floated across the clearing. Dirk looked up, a sunny smile breaking the tension on his face. “And you were _worried_ , Todd.”

  


* * *

  


Wrapped in Tina’s softest old hoodie, with her feet in cozy felted slippers and a book in her hand, Farah eased into her favorite armchair with a grateful sigh. For the most part, she enjoyed being her own boss, but since she was harder on herself than any other boss would’ve been, she made a deliberate effort to relish times like these, when she allowed herself to be well and truly off the clock.

Naturally, it was at precisely this moment that her phone rang.

“Hey, Sherlock.”

“Hey Farah, sorry to bother you so early on a Saturday.”

She didn’t tell him that she’d been up for hours already: had woken up with Tina just before dawn, stayed in bed with Tina until well _after_ dawn, gone for a run, showered, had breakfast, and kissed Tina goodbye as she headed off to the sheriff’s department. “It’s fine. What’s going on?” 

“So, you’ve got the keys now, right?” he asked. It wasn’t like him to be so terse, but Farah forced herself not to jump to disastrous conclusions. 

“Yes, we finished all the paperwork yesterday. I emailed you copies of — 

“Good, good. Can you meet me there in about eleven hours?”

“Sure...but why? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, fine, just fine! Yep, we’re all good here.”

 _Now_ she jumped to several conclusions, including the obvious one about who ‘we’ referred to. “Are you still with Dirk and Todd? Where are you now? Has anyone been arrested or injured or —”

“ _Farah_. I promise we’re all together, we’re all safe, and we’re headed home.”

She spoke through gritted teeth. “Headed home from _where_?”

“I’ll fill you in tonight, okay? It’s, ah, it’s a lot to get into over the phone. For now, though, you _might_ want to start looking into electric fencing.”

“What? _Why?_ ” 

“Sorry, Farah, I have to go, it’s my turn to drive again. See you tonight!” The line went dead.

Knowing that it would be futile to try calling Dirk or Todd for clarification, Farah settled for texting them both, adding a few choice words in all caps just so they’d be _absolutely_ clear on how she felt about being left out of the loop. She pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed — _in through the nose,_ four seconds; _hold,_ seven seconds; _exhale through the mouth,_ eight seconds. Then she prepped her coffeemaker for a fresh brew cycle, opened her laptop, and began researching high-security fencing.

  


* * *

  


As he hauled the wet cat blankets out of the washer and dumped them into the dryer, Todd reminded himself that he’d volunteered for this. Although getting out of office hours _was_ a definite perk — Dirk and Farah were downstairs filling out expense reports, with Dirk insisting that as a holistic detective, _everything_ he did _could_ be claimed as an expense — the real reason Todd was packing up cat supplies by himself was pure guilty obligation. He’d complained about the cats ever since they arrived, but now that they were about to leave, he had to see them off right. 

He trudged down the hall and back into the cat room, which now had a much more manageable population of ten. In the week since they’d retrieved the shark-cat, Dirk hadn’t found a single, solitary cat — no half-feral strays followed him home, no confused housecats emerged when he walked past the local park, and no kittens were abandoned in cardboard boxes just outside the agency door. Moreover, there’d been a sharp uptick in connections between found cats and the agency’s lengthy roster of lost-cat cases, with several previously irate clients suddenly realizing that their beloved pets had been safe in the agency’s care all along. And today, the few remaining cats in residence were moving into the new home that Farah had arranged for them, bringing Todd’s long, furry nightmare to a close.

As much as Todd couldn’t wait to have the run of his own apartment back, he also felt a twinge of sadness at the cats’ departure. Despite how messy, noisy, and inconvenient they’d been, their presence had made Dirk smile, and caring for them had given Todd a satisfying sense of competence. And it had been nice to have a shared purpose with Dirk, something other than their work at the agency. Maybe they could take up houseplant gardening after this, or some other project that involved plenty of joint effort with zero risk of stepping in cat vomit.

The mental image of Dirk with dirty hands made Todd remember their first trip to Skagit Valley. He’d been thinking about it a lot, actually, in the wake of their recent trip: remembering how easily their camaraderie had grown; how Dirk had refuted Todd’s self-loathing even in the face of his most unforgivable secret; and how surprised he’d been to realize that he needed Dirk’s friendship as much as Dirk needed his. As Todd began boxing up cat toys, he recalled the bumper-sticker slogan he’d seen on the cars of the many, many animal rescue volunteers he’d met in the last two months: “Who rescued who?” It probably didn’t say anything good about him, as a person, that a slogan about animal adoption could describe his relationship to his human best friend, but that didn’t make it any less apt.

Todd’s packing efforts were drawing attention from several of the remaining cats, including Bernice, who now sported a shiny coat and several more pounds than she’d had when they’d found her. When she was sure she had Todd’s attention, Bernice flopped onto her side and looked up at Todd in a blatant ploy for petting. Todd didn’t bother resisting — it was her last day here, after all.

“Did you even _know_ ,” he said, rubbing under her chin, “how lucky you were to be found by someone like him?” Bernice, characteristically, didn’t answer. “I know you’re obsessed with him,” Todd continued, “and it’s not like I can’t understand — I exploded my whole life to find him after knowing him for only one week. But you don’t even...you don’t know how to stop him from accidentally walking into traffic, or where to find the corny old detective books he likes, or which songs can calm him down after a bad dream. You don’t care that he stays with me during my attacks, even though they freak him out, or that he never judges me for my shitty choices, even though he knows about the shittiest ones. You don’t know _any_ of that, and somehow _you’re_ the one who gets to sleep next to him every night.”

Todd’s hand had stilled while he spoke, and Bernice pushed her face against it, reminding him that petting was the price of this little therapy session. Even though he felt a little foolish talking to a cat, it was a relief to unburden himself to someone who couldn’t talk back. “He tells you he loves you like, eighty-five times a day,” he complained. “But _I_ don’t even know if he...I mean, I _think_ he does. But I don’t really _know_ , you know? And I _can’t_ know unless I just fucking tell him how _I_ feel, and even though Farah might murder me if I don’t tell him soon, I’m not sure I can go through with it. Because if I’m _wrong_ , it won’t matter who rescued who. We’ll both know that I was the one who ruined it.”

Bernice’s response to this pitiful admission was to shake her head, get up, and walk away, which seemed fair enough to Todd. 

He got up as well, adding a few more toys to the box before he turned toward the door...only to find it blocked by Dirk, with Bernice rubbing against his ankles. 

The look on Dirk’s face was desperately, devastatingly _hopeful_ , but Todd must have looked as thunderstruck as he felt, because before he could ask how long Dirk had been standing there, Dirk launched into a rapid-fire explanation. 

“I didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop, honestly! I just came up here to get some receipts I left in another jacket, and I heard you talking, which made me wonder who you were talking _to._ Although considering how much time Farah spends talking to herself, I shouldn’t assume that conversation requires two parties, should I? It’s a shocking bias on my part, really, I have only myself to blame on that front, and Todd, do you _really_ not know?”

Todd’s pulse was racing, but his brain was struggling to catch up with Dirk’s torrent of words. Unable to say anything coherent, he shrugged. Dirk, evidently, interpreted this as a signal to keep talking. 

“Have you _never_ noticed that I tell _everyone_ I meet how perfect you are? Ever since you threw a shoe at me I’ve tried to — to _encourage_ you, and stick with you, and look after you as best I can, and while I’ll grant you that my best might not be very good, I never meant for it to be _unclear_.”

“It…” Todd’s voice had returned, but he could still barely process what he was hearing. “Of course I noticed all of that, but I thought that was just how being best friends with you worked. You’ve _always_ done that stuff with me.”

“Yes, Todd, I’m _wildly_ aware.”

As realization washed over Todd, the giddy relief of reciprocation quickly gave way to hot shame at having been so myopic for so long. “ _Oh_ ,” was all he could say.

Dirk took a few steps into the room, right up to the edge of Todd’s personal space. “I’m not sure if it counts as love at first sight, exactly, since interpretations of ‘first sight’ might vary where time travel is concerned, but…” He swallowed. “It still counts as love. And I know that might be kind of a lot for you to hear, and it’s absolutely alright if you don’t feel the same way, but whatever you do, _don’t_ doubt how I feel about you.” His eyes were watery but defiant, and Todd couldn’t tear his own eyes away. “I don’t want to assume, but from what you were telling Bernice, it sounds like you feel _—_ maybe the not the _same_ , but something close? And since you evolved about wanting me around in the first place, it might not be _completely_ out of order to hope that you —” 

“I do!” Todd hadn’t meant to say quite so loudly, but now that he’d caught up, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He dropped the box of cat toys and seized Dirk by his jacket lapels, as if holding him in place could make him understand what Todd had to say. “I _do_ feel the same way. I’m sorry I’m an idiot and it took me so long to say anything, but I don’t want you to doubt it either. _Ever_.”

Dirk’s defiant expression shifted into a heartrending blend of joy and uncertainty. “Forgive me if I’m belaboring the point here,” he said, “but I think you’re in a unique position to understand why I need to know _precisely_ what you mean when you say you feel the same?”

In the back of Todd’s mind, where the clock was still frantically ticking, Farah’s words echoed: _you’re going to have to spell it out for him._ Fear and self-doubt were still crowded in his throat, threatening to choke him, but he swallowed them down as he wrapped one hand around Dirk’s hideous knit necktie. It was always easier to be brave for someone else, anyway.

“I mean that I love you, you asshole,” he said, and kissed him.

Dirk responded immediately, with an eagerness that implied long months of dreaming about exactly what he’d do when presented with this opportunity. His hands flew up to Todd’s head, one of them cradling Todd’s jaw and the other sliding into his hair. The touch sent shivers across Todd’s scalp and down the rest of his body, and he pushed in closer, wrapping one arm around Dirk and raising up on his toes to deepen the kiss. Dirk tasted like the spiced tea he’d been drinking at his desk, and smelled like the pomade he used to keep his hair in that infuriatingly perfect swoop. The heat of his body warmed Todd at every point of contact between them, making him wonder just how hot Dirk’s skin was _under_ his clothes, and how quickly he’d be allowed to find out. And though the kiss had begun with as much awkwardness as any first kiss, Dirk became more curious and responsive as it progressed, and Todd followed his lead, just like he always did, letting the inescapable force that was Dirk sweep him up and carry him away. 

The ticking clock went blissfully, beautifully silent.

By the time the kiss broke, they were both breathless, and Todd’s hand was cramped from gripping Dirk’s tie so tightly. They looked at each other, ridiculous grins growing on both of their faces, until Todd had to hide his smile against Dirk’s neck, feeling Dirk’s chest shaking with quiet laughter.

"Todd," said Dirk, once the laughter had subsided, “do you think there’s a reason this happened _today_?”

Todd pulled his face away from Dirk’s neck so he could answer. “Should I? Is your universe sense tingling?”

“To be quite honest, Todd, _all_ of my senses are tingling at the moment.” Todd felt his already heated skin flush, but he couldn’t muster up the slightest shred of embarrassment. “I only meant that today’s our last day with the cats, and Hobbs has this theory that the cats, among other recent events, are the universe’s way of nudging me into looking for loose ends, things I missed while I was too busy running from catastrophe to catastrophe.” 

Dirk’s hair swoop had come undone, and all Todd wanted was to mess it up even more, but he wrenched his concentration back to the conversation. “And you think —” he gave in and brushed the hair out of Dirk’s face, letting his hand linger with his thumb stroking Dirk’s cheek, “— _I_ was a loose end?”

“If you were, I should have tied you up a long time ago.” 

Todd nearly choked at this statement, and Dirk, realizing what he’d said, scrambled to backpedal. “Shit! _Breathe_ , Todd, I didn’t mean it like _that._ Although, if that _interests_ you —”

In an effort to preserve what remained of his sanity, Todd put a finger over Dirk’s lips. “Just — stop talking for second, okay?”

Dirk nodded, and Todd continued.

“I don’t want to analyze the metaphysical reasons for us being together. I don’t even care if the universe is just using us as puppets for some unforeseen, sinister reason. Right now, I just want to take that stupid tie off you and then see what happens next. Okay?” 

Another nod. 

“And I’d like to do those things someplace where there _isn’t_ a horde of cat voyeurs watching us.”

They both looked around the room, and ten pairs of staring feline eyes looked back. 

“That sounds like a _fantastic_ plan,” said Dirk. “Although in the cats’ defense, you can’t call them voyeurs if they just _happened_ to be watching when —” Dirk’s eyes suddenly widened.

Todd felt dread tugging at the edges of his elation. “Dirk?” 

In lieu of a response, Dirk turned his head and looked up. Todd followed his gaze, over to the bookcase, and to the unblinking eye of the cat cam. 

Dimly, through the sudden rushing of blood in his ears, Todd heard Farah calling their names as she ran up the stairs and into the apartment, heading straight back to the cat room. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. 

“You two forgot it was still office hours, didn’t you?” she asked in a small voice.

“Obviously!” hissed Todd. “It’s not still streaming, is it?”

“No,” Farah assured. “I stopped the livestream and changed the channel settings to private before coming up here. But…”

“ _But,”_ said Dirk, with a meaningful glance at Todd, “we just revealed our most vulnerable emotions and then made out in front of a live internet audience.”

Farah winced and nodded. “I _barely_ saw anything, though,” she added, as if that made a difference. “It wasn’t until my phone blew up with comment notifications that I checked the livestream, and by then...” She showed them her phone’s screen.

From the tiny size of the scroll bar, Todd could tell that the comment thread was lengthy. The first screen alone contained everything from congratulations to condemnations, along with the inevitable prurient remarks, and one comment that read “akldshgdkghj is that todd brotzman from mexican funeral?!?!” Todd pressed the button to turn off the phone screen.

“Please don’t ever show those to me again,” he told Farah. Dirk gave his shoulder a consoling squeeze. 

“Understood,” Farah said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “And listen, I know this livestream situation isn’t great, but...congratulations.” She was blinking rapidly, and when she spoke again, her voice was a quavering squeak. “I’m just really, really happy for you guys?” she said, pulling them into a rib-crushing embrace.

She released Dirk first, and before she let go of Todd, she whispered directly into his ear. “ _Having it happen by accident is cheating, but I’m letting you off the hook due to extenuating circumstances_.”

Then she smiled at them both and walked out without another word, leaving Dirk and Todd alone with their newfound notoriety and a roomful of cats. Bernice, still at Dirk’s feet, reached her front paws up Dirk’s leg with an imploring meow, and he picked her up. “None of this would have happened if you weren’t such an obliging confidante, Bernice,” he scolded, and Todd huffed out a laugh. 

“You never told me why you named her Bernice,” he said. “I know you made up most of the names of the fly, but you seemed to have that one ready to go.”

“I knew another cat named Bernice, once,” Dirk replied, shifting the cat in his arms so that Todd could pet her. “She was lovely cat, although we met under difficult circumstances. In a way, that first Bernice kickstarted my career as a detective, and I guess the name stuck with me.” He set the current Bernice back down on the floor and slipped an arm around Todd. “Plus, she just _seems_ like a Bernice, don’t you think?”

Todd watched as the new Bernice — the one whose arrival had started them down the path that led to Dirk’s arm around Todd’s waist, solid and promising — stalked off towards Dirk’s bedroom, presumably to curl up in her favorite spot on his bed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

  


* * *

  


**KnitWit community private chat transcript:**

**_BigGumshoeE:_ ** _Let me make sure I understand_

_**BigGumshoeE:** You told me this whole long-ass story and sent me a screenshot of two dudes kissing all because you wanted to show me the CAT SWEATERS in the background?_

**_SheriffSherlock:_ ** _They’re based on the pattern you sent me, from that sweater you made for your partner’s dog! I even got the cabling right!_

_**BigGumshoeE:**_......

 _ **BigGumshoeE:**._.....

_**SheriffSherlock:** You still there, buddy?_

_**BigGumshoeE:** Still here. Just can’t figure out what the hell to say to that_

_**BigGumshoeE:** The sweaters DO look nice_

_**SheriffSherlock:** Thank you! I’m actually working on more of them now, so I’d better be going. _

_**BigGumshoeE:** Hold up_

_**BigGumshoeE:** Your friends, the ones in the screenshot. They kept Bernice, didn’t they?_

_**SheriffSherlock:** See, I knew you'd pick up the clues, even with nobody paying you ;D_

Hobbs closed the chat window on his phone and turned back to his knitting. The ball of yarn had fallen off his lap, and several cats now chased it across the creaky floor of the old farmhouse. He didn’t mind — in fact, he often saved his knitting for his volunteer shifts at the Cardenas Cat Sanctuary (founding donor: F.A. Black), because the yarn doubled as entertainment for the feline guests. He heard the crackle of distant lightning from the fenced-in fields outside, and he knew that the Sanctuary’s only permanent resident had found the new toys he’d left there earlier. 

Smiling to himself, Hobbs picked up the pattern where he’d left off, his knitting needles clicking busily. There was an adoption event tomorrow, after all, and these cat sweaters wouldn’t finish themselves. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you derived even the tiniest smidgen of pleasure from this fic, please let me know via comments or kudos — feedback makes me happier than a kitten with a stolen ball of yarn.
> 
> Hobbs’ internet knitting buddy is Emerson Cod from _Pushing Daisies_ , because their friendship is [a cherished headcanon](https://juniper-and-lamplight.tumblr.com/post/185181090340/ive-been-rewatching-pushing-daisies-lately-and) of mine.
> 
> Finally, this probably goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: realistically, you should NOT keep this many cats in one room, or even one apartment! Some things are only funny in fiction.


End file.
